Servants Summon Arc: Masters' Tournament
This Servants Summon Arc entails the summoning of Caster of Dawn and Ruler, taking place on May 23, 2009. All dialogue spoken here is spoken in Italian unless otherwise stated. Prologue: Introductions A beautiful teenage girl yawned. She threw off her covers and realized that she was nude. Oh crap, I forgot... Altea Flamel likes to sleep nude as it is easier for her to go. She quickly found her clothes and shoved them on. No sooner had she finished dressing when a knock on her door nearly shook of her hastily-put-on gown. Being the daughter of the strongest mage family in Italy was tiring. "Altea! What are you doing in bed still?!" a voice shouted. Altea cursed in Latin and replied in her native tongue, "I'm still getting dressed! Calm down, Father! I know how important today is!" The voice went silent as Altea continued to get dressed. Father can be SO annoying sometimes. But why is there a mage tournament today? Father also said that today I will be summoning my Servant... It just makes no sense. Altea got up and stared at herself in the mirror. She wore a dress that waterfalled down to her toes, no further. Her high heels were made of the finest silver and encrusted with rubies. Ugh, Father! I ''told you I hate jewelry!'' she thought. Her father expects her to become as ostentatious as possible; she is the heir of the strongest mage family in Italy. Of course, she wore makeup. Her eyelashes were done in a way that if she imbued mana into them, she could use them to fan someone, although Altea would never do such a thing as unsightly as that. She wore just the right amount of crimson lipstick to emphasize her beauty. Her nails were perfectly manicured, although this might prove redundant in today's tournament. She again looked at herself and nodded. Yup! As expected of Italy's most beautiful maiden! She got up the courage to open the door and walk outside. She walked out of the door, to find her father staring down at her. Even when aged, Giovanni Flamel still had the angry glare in his eyes from his younger days. He rubbed Altea's head. "There's my daughter. Now, go! Win the tournament! Prove to all of Italy that the Flamels are the strongest!" Altea smiled wide. "Yes, Father! I won't let you down!" Chapter 1: The Tournament Altea took off from her family mansion and ran towards Piazza San Marco (St. Mark's Square). When she entered, she went to the stand to sign up for the tournament. She wrote, Altea Flamel, Heir of the Flamel Family, Witch of Alchemical Demise. Her alias was well-known throughout Italy, as her skills with magic are quite unrivaled. Her family has a secret art, passed down through the generations, known as Flamel Style: Infinite Blade Creation. Altea's father was quite an adept user at it and expects his daughter to be adept with the technique, too. She had exceeded her father's hopes. As soon as she learned it and managed to get the projections right, she could summon thirty swords at once. They appear out of the air from crimson light and fire away as if they have their own will, in which they technically do. Altea then moved to the special booth in which mage families sit to watch the tournament. Her father was already there, in his pin-striped dress clothes. Altea's mother wasn't present as she had died giving birth to her. Altea sat in her seat and began to glower at the other mages. She just wanted to feel "on top" although her skills proved to be on top. An announcer went on and declared that the first match of the tournament was to start between Marco Bautista and Venusto D'Aleo. The two were both from quite famous mage families, although quite outshined by the Flamel Family. Hmm... Altea thought, From what I can glean, the Bautista Family specializes in the usage of crystals while the D'Aleo Family specializes in projection magic. If I had to say who will win this one my guess will go to Venusto. Altea was taken aback when Marco formed a primitive projection and clashed with Venusto's. Whoa! So some basic training in projection magic, eh? Venusto will still win though. I can tell that he has mastered the "Trace-on" command. No sooner had she thought this, Venusto had Marco pinned in a prison of longsword projections. The announcer shouted, "The winner is... VENUSTO D'ALEO! What excellent magic we have seen here, folks! Let us raise a hand for the loser, Marco Bautista! You cannot deny that he has fought well with the duel lasting five minutes! D'Aleo passes to the next round!" "Today's Round Two is a match between two powerful mage families! One controls Northern Italy while the other controls Southern Italy! Let me introduce... the Witch of Alchemical Demise and heir to the Flamel Family, Altea Flamel!" Roars of applause broke out as Altea walked to the field of battle. Of course, her father refused to allow her to change out of her gown and heels. He had ordered her to not get a scratch on the heels. Stupid Father! As if I can even ''fight properly wearing these! No use complaining. I'll just give him a piece of my mind later.'' "Altea's opponent is the Sorcer of the Underworld and respective heir of the Morte Family, Michel Morte!" The same roars of applause rang out. They stood their ground and stared daggers at each other. Michel shouted, "Hey, Altea. Long time no see. You don't seem to be any stronger than last time!" Altea scoffed, "I could shoot that back at you, Michel! I see you still like to wear orange." "It's my family's color!" he retorted. "As if," Altea yelled, "My family colors are red. Red is better than orange!" Ironically, Michel burned red. "You will pay for that insult, Altea!" Altea made a come-on gesture and said, "Come at me, bud! See if you can come through with those words of yours!" The announcer beautifully dictated the emotions of the audience and at that moment, the audience was at max excitement. "And there they go! The two most well-known rivals in Italy are now duking it out!" Altea and Michel felt a twinge of guilt since they were technically deceiving the whole of Italy and the world. Exactly ten years ago, the Italian government crumbled because of a duel between Giovanni and Marco. However, this isn't the truth. Far from it. The truth was that Giovanni and Marco formed a secret pact kept obscure from even their own families. Everyone in the Italian government was massacred. To hide their heinous deed, Giovanni and Marco mortally wounded each other to make it look like they fought to the death and nearly did kill one another. Italy was then split in two with half of the population siding with the Mortes while the other half sided with the Flamels. The two fathers divulged the truth to their respective heirs. Since that day, the two have kept a demeanor that they were bitter rivals but on the inside, they were the best of friends. Chapter 2: Dual-wielding Demons Clash The two met in the center and crossed opposite hands. Pushing off of each other, they engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Michel threw a right hook to which Altea blocked with her left hand and countered with a kick to the abdomen. He sidestepped and clamped Altea's leg between his knee and elbow. Altea then leaped off her foot and twisted around, bringing her leg up then down onto his forehead. He had no choice but to unclamp Altea and stumble backward. Altea projected a dagger and lunged at him but this time, he was ready. He projected a rapier, and taking advantage of the reach, stepped inside Altea's strike and stabbed at her chest. In the nick of time, she had reinforced her own front as to not injure herself. She announced to the crowd, "You've gotten better, Michel, but not enough to beat me!" Michel threw his head back and laughed. "Well, then. Let's see who's better at projections!" He projected a one-handed sword approximately 60 centimeters in length in his left hand and swung at Altea. She countered with a sword slightly shorter at 58 centimeters. Expecting this, he silently thanked God that he was ambidextrous and projected another sword, slightly longer than her first at 67 centimeters. he slashed from the top to which Altea met with another sword. The duo was at an equal standoff until they broke away and held two swords each. Altea's were red and black while Michel's were orange and violet. "At least you can make beautiful swords!" Altea said, wagging her finger. Michel laughed again "Well, I could send that right back at you!" The two charged at each other, their swords poised to slash. The crowd had already climaxed its excitement levels but somehow, the excitement grew larger when the two pulled out their projection trump cards: dual-wielding. Some of the crowd had their mouths open. Ever since that anime known worldwide as SAO, short for Sword Art Online, hit the screens, most people began to appreciate swords more, although this only applied to mage families who had an innate preference to Projection Magecraft. As soon as this mage tournament started, people were expecting old-fashioned clashes and they weren't unsatisfied. The reason why the crowd blew its lid is that that the two contestants were able to hold two swords in each hand. Most people thought that dual-wielding was unpractical as one needs to be equally coordinated with both hands in order to properly wield two swords. This was no problem for the two, who had always been ambidextrous. Michel and Flaminia crossed swords in front of them and charged at each other. The announcer was open-mouthed and couldn't possibly keep up with the speed they were attacking each other at. The only references were the slight wounds they were giving each other; they also aren't giving each other any leeway. One, two, three, four. The wounds kept piling up. Eight minutes of four clashing swords later, Michel and Altea stumbled away from each other. Altea clutched her right arm because a wound had rendered it partially immobile. On the other hand, Michel was on his left knee, grasping his right leg as Altea had scored a hit and brought him down. "Darn it, Altea..." he groaned, as blood slowly oozed through the many wounds covering his body, "Do I seriously need to use that?" Altea smirked then winced. "Hehe... It looks like we forced each other to use our trump cards..." That said, I can't ''believe I was actually able to fight wearing high heels! I'm surprised I didn't lose my balance!'' She then looked down and saw that she had unconsciously flown mana into the Magic Circuits in her legs to allow for an even footing. Unconsciously? She finally noticed that her heels weren't their usual red color. Imbued with mana, they glowed green. There wasn't a scratch on the gems on them. Stupid Father. I've kept my promise. My dress is in tatters though... Through a sheet of pain, Michel stood up and placed his right hand on his heart while holding out her left hand. She began to chant in Latin: "Many of the dead lie here. You have served your masters and have passed on. Now, I order you to serve me. Rise, soldiers of Rome!" A sickly green magic circle, about twenty feet in diameter, appeared. Great... Altea thought, Not Roman zombies... Altea also painfully placed her hands in the opposite way of her opponent and began to chant in English: "I am the bone of my sword. Steel is my body and fire is my blood. I have summoned over a thousand blades. Unknown to injury. Nor known to pain. Have withstood possession to wield many weapons. Yet, those hands will never obtain anything. So, as I pray, Unlimited Blade Works!" Around Altea, crimson light began to glow. Imagine a sphere with a radius of twenty feet that splits Altea into two from ear to ear. The hemisphere behind her sprouts red circles all throughout the space that it occupies. The announcer finally found his voice. "There it is, there it is! The hidden arts of their respective families! Flamels' hidden art, everyone knows of as that infamous Giovanni Flamel used it during his duel with Marco Morte: the Unlimited Blade Works!" Giovanni was sitting near the announcer and whispered in his ear. "Well, I am sorry but the art is called Flamel Style: Infinite Blade Creation! Let us see this in action shall we?" Chapter 3: The Tournament's End The green circle began to glow as the announcer shouted, "Could it be? Could it be? Yes, it is! The hidden art of the Morte Family: Unlimited Undead Works." Again, Giovanni couldn't help himself in correcting the announcer. "Well, excuse me. It seems that the official name is Morte Style: Perpetual Soul Grounding. Let us see how it works." A fog of black issued out of the magic circle and thickened to form soldiers. Some wore tunics and carried swords. Others wore armor and brandished spears and shields. Someone who wore what obviously was a general's armor spoke. What came out was a series of chatters. Michel fell to both knees and winced as he put weight on his bad leg. *pant pant* If I continue supplying mana, I'll be able to keep the technique going... That has to be Altea's trump card... Weapon points began emerging from the center of the red circles. Altea staggered on her feet and nearly did the splits trying to regain her balance. Dang... We haven't gone ''this far in a duel before... He managed to force me to use this...'' The two opponents ran to the side as their respective spells clashed with each other. Both were getting weaker by the minute as they drain their mana to their spells. The two then engaged in a gruesome fistfight. Well, we need to convince the crowd. Altea had spoken telepathically. With the amount of mana they were outputting, a delicate link formed between their mana. Their thoughts flow through as well. Michel replied, We go down together. I haven't had this much fun in a long time, bestie. Yeah, Altea sighed, Me too. The two released their techniques at the same time and focused their remaining mana into their hand for a Mana Burst that allows for inhuman strength. They hit each other in the stomach and collapsed. "What's this?" the announcer rubbed his eyes. "A tie? It seems to be a tie! Both contestants are unconscious! Round Two is a tie!" Giovanni and Marco leaped from the bleachers and landed on the arena, sixty feet below, with no problem. They had both unleashed mana from their feet and that acted as a cushion. They both ran to their children, making a wide angle around the two clashing spells. Even though their mana supply had been cut off, the spell was on a time lag: one minute. It will keep going until that time had passed then it will fade. Just to keep the ploy up, when the two carried off their daughters, they gave each other a dirty look that would've been close to Medusa's stare. The tournament continued as planned. ---- Altea awoke in the hospital. She tried to sit up but was stopped by a nurse. "Don't do it. As expected of a Flamel. Very high healing capabilities. Your wounds were ejecting blood up until two minutes ago. You were brought in here ten minutes ago." When the nurse left, her father entered. "Altea..." he said. Uh-oh, scolding time. she thought. Her father extended his hand and rubbed Altea's head. She loved it when he did that. "You've done well, daughter," he cooed, "I couldn't have done better." Altea blushed, "You flatter me, Father." She then put on her serious demeanor. "What of the tournament?" Giovanni smiled, "Still going. The quarterfinal match is being held. You and Flaminia are both semifinalists. The semifinal will be like normal. Of course, I expect you two to face again in the finals." Altea smirked, "No worries, Father. I always snatch victory." The crowd excitedly began to cheer when Altea walked back onto the arena. The announcer declared, "The first semifinal will now begin! We have our Witch, Altea, pitting against Venusto! I am predicting that this match will be quick!" Altea curtsied to Venusto and said, "Well, be glad, peasant. You are fighting against me." Venusto placed his right hand on his chest and knelt on one knee. "I am in no place to say this but it is an honor to fight you, Princess." Altea's heart skipped a beat as her face slightly reddened, "Fl-flattery will get you nowhere! Now, I'm nice so I'll let you have the first move." Venusto straightened, "Thank you, Your Highness." He projected a bow and began nocking arrows. A mere two seconds later, Venusto had four arrows on his bow and fired. An invisible cloak of mana, Altea thought, There's my shield. She stood still, assessing her own mana levels. I may need a few hours more sleep tonight to properly restabilize my mana levels... The four arrows neared Altea and hit her cloak of mana. It broke in half as soon as it hit. Altea sighed and flowed mana into the Magic Circuits of her legs. She charged forward and reached Venusto, keeping him at dagger point. She whispered in her ear, "I wish you could've kept me entertained for a while longer but here's a reward for you for being brave enough to face me." She kissed his ear and walked away. "Oh my lord! That was insanely quick!" the announcer shouted, "The first semifinal is over! Well, what a surprise. Our Witch didn't even break a sweat! Now, let us move on to the second semifinal! Who shall face Altea? Will it be her rival, Flaminia or the dark horse of this tournament, Zeno De Gracia? Even I cannot predict who might win this one!" Altea strolled back into her booth and she sat next to her father. Immediately, her eyes fluttered. She only saw the boy that had to be Zeno stick his hands into his jacket pockets. She laid on her father's shoulder to which Giovanni chuckled. He stroked her hair and whispered, "You've done well, my daughter." Altea was gently shaken awake. Giovanni said, "It is time." Altea nodded and roused herself fully. She walked back down to the arena to face her opponent. She half-expected it to be Zeno but a familiar face stared at her. The two contestants locked eyes and a silent conversation began. Ugh, not again... Altea groaned, We've both practically depleted each other's mana levels... I have to agree with you there, Altea, he replied, I think we can tie this tournament. How? We incapacitate each other, Michel suggested. Hmm... That could be done. Let's just do another dual-wielding showdown then impale each other, Altea mused. The question is: where do we impale each other? It will ''obviously be somewhere nonvital.'' he said. Altea giggled, I'll aim for your liver. That's vital, dummy! I know, I know. I kid. Altea rubbed the back of her neck and said aloud, "Ugh, again? I'm tired of this." Michel replied, "Yeah, let's settle this. I wanna head home and sleep already." The two then each projected two legendary swords from both history and mythology. Altea brandished Cruaidín Catutchenn, the sword of Cú Chulainn, and Excalibur, the strongest holy sword wielded by King Artoria. Flaminia wielded Durandal, the sharpest sword in existence belonging to Roland, and Kusanagi, one of the Three Imperial Regalia of Japan. The two immediately began to falter as the mana output of projecting two legendary swords, even if they were 100% fake and hollow, was quite taxing. Urk, that was a bad idea... Michel groaned. No kidding, Altea replied, Let's just do this. Yeah. The two opponents charged at each other, bringing their swords up. The announcer voiced the audience's shock and excitement superfluously: "Oh my! Swords from mythology! Swords from history! Imagine the mana output just to project them! As expected of the heirs of the two strongest mage families in Italy!" The two hacked and slashed at each other, not giving room. No wounds were given this time though since the two girls had decided of focusing it all into one blow. Tiring out, Altea said, Ready? Michel replied, Ready when you are. Together, the two began counting down while still slashing at each other: Three, two, one, NOW! Altea and Flaminia dispelled Catutchenn and Kusanagi respectively and focused the last of their mana into the other sword. The two impaled each other in the transverse colon. Seconds later, they developed a face that could only mean one thing: blood was to be ejected from the mouth. However, neither refused to spit it out until Michel coughed, quickly followed by Altea. The two fell to their knees as their swords flickered and faded away. They had left enough mana to throw one last devastating punch at each other, knocking each other out. The crowd and announcer collectively gasped. The announcer collected his wits first and declared, "It's a tie! This tournament is a tie! We can say with confidence that this tournament is a tie!" Both Giovanni and Marco hopped back onto the arena and chuckled under their breath as they carried off their respective children, for the second time. Chapter 4: The Servants Summon A mere half hour later, the announcer ushered the crowd back into their seats, saying, "Well, since this tournament is a tie, the two finalists have a chance of summoning a Servant and participating in the Holy Grail War!" Altea and Michel, both hastily bandaged, marched back onto the arena. A summoning circle was already prepared. Giovanni asked, "Altea, are you sure you've recovered enough mana to perform the summon?" "No worries, Father," Altea reassured him, "I do." The announcer voiced his own and the crowd's anticipation for the summon: "Let us begin the summon! We have a special relic today provided by the Mages Association: a piece of rock that is alleged to belong to the Cretan Labyrinth of Daedalus! Let us see if our Witch is enough to call upon the inventor!" Let cobbles and marble be the catalyst. Let this unmoving stone be the foundation. Let the leader Nicholas Flamel be the ancestor. The color I bestow is "Red"! Let rise a wall in which the wind shall fell. Let the four cardinal gates open. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the kingdom rotate. I hereby declare; Your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be your sword. Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail. Answer! If you would submit to this will and this truth. An oath I will swear here; I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven; I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell. From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restriction, O Great Inventor! The summoning circle glowed with brilliant red light as the chalice glared brighter and brighter. Altea did not falter as she continued through the incantation. Upon the last word, the light solidified into a man, not much older than Altea. He held the rock in his hand and curtsied to Altea, imploring, "The Holy Grail has enticed me and I have answered its call. Oh, mage, answer me. Are you my Master?" Altea eyed her left hand as the Command Spells appeared on it. Five Wings. She had obtained the Thrones Master Degree. Nodding, she declared to the Heroic Spirit, "I am. State your True Name, Servant." He spoke, "I am Daedalus, creator of the Cretan Labyrinth, Caster-class Servant. It is an honor to be your Servant, Master." Altea then asked of her Servant, "May I borrow that rock?" Being observant, Caster inquired, "Another summon?" Michel walked forward, "That would be me. However, I brought my own catalyst today." He placed a small statue made out of a yule log in the center and began to chant. Let cells and fiber be the catalyst. Let this handkerchief be the foundation. Let the leader Uriele Morte be the ancestor. White is the color I pay tribute to. Let rise a wall in which the wind shall fell. Let the four cardinal gates open. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the kingdom rotate. I hereby declare; Your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be your sword. Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail. Answer! If you would submit to this will and this truth. An oath I will swear here; I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven; I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell. From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint, Saint of Charity! As with Altea, the summoning circle glowed but this time, pure white. The time was afternoon but the light from the circle shone bright enough to be a sort of beacon. The last line was uttered and the figure took the form of a bearded man dressed in a Catholic monk's habit. He had his eyes closed and opened them cautiously. Eyeing Michel, she implored, "I have answered the calls of the Grail. I ask of you, are you my Master?" Michel replied, "Yes, I am. Please state your True Name." She declared, "Yes, Master. I am Nicholas, Wonderworker, Ruler-class Servant. I have answered come to be your Servant in this Holy Grail War. Oh, by the way, Master, do you happen to have a can or a bottle of Coca-Cola around?" "I do have one on me. Also, as a Ruler, you would need a corporeal host, correct?" "Yes, I would need a host," he lamented. "Apologies for this, Master, but I must possess you." "It's nothing," he replied. White light engulfed him and Ruler as they fused. Michel finished his statement: "At least we both love Coke." From this point forward, Michel would be unable to speak as Ruler has full control of his body. "Again, sincerest apologies, Master, but I must do this." He turned to the silent crowd and announced, "Let me reintroduce myself. I am the Ruler-class Servant sent by the Holy Grail to watch over this ritual. Pleased to serve you." Ruler bowed.